CHAPTER IX
The image of a wicked, heinous fault Lives in his eye; that close aspect of his Does shew the mood of a much-troubled breast. KING JOHN
Leaving the gay scenes of Paris, we return to those of the gloomyApennine, where Emily's thoughts were still faithful to Valancourt.Looking to him as to her only hope, she recollected, with jealousexactness, every assurance and every proof she had witnessed of hisaffection; read again and again the letters she had received from him;weighed, with intense anxiety, the force of every word, that spoke ofhis attachment; and dried her tears, as she trusted in his truth.
Montoni, meanwhile, had made strict enquiry concerning the strangecircumstance of his alarm, without obtaining information; and was, atlength, obliged to account for it by the reasonable supposition, thatit was a mischievous trick played off by one of his domestics. Hisdisagreements with Madame Montoni, on the subject of her settlements,were now more frequent than ever; he even confined her entirely to herown apartment, and did not scruple to threaten her with much greaterseverity, should she persevere in a refusal.
Reason, had she consulted it, would now have perplexed her in the choiceof a conduct to be adopted. It would have pointed out the danger ofirritating by further opposition a man, such as Montoni had provedhimself to be, and to whose power she had so entirely committed herself;and it would also have told her, of what extreme importance to herfuture comfort it was, to reserve for herself those possessions, whichwould enable her to live independently of Montoni, should she everescape from his immediate controul. But she was directed by a moredecisive guide than reason--the spirit of revenge, which urged her tooppose violence to violence, and obstinacy to obstinacy.
Wholly confined to the solitude of her apartment, she was now reducedto solicit the society she had lately rejected; for Emily was the onlyperson, except Annette, with whom she was permitted to converse.
Generously anxious for her peace, Emily, therefore, tried to persuade,when she could not convince, and sought by every gentle means to induceher to forbear that asperity of reply, which so greatly irritatedMontoni. The pride of her aunt did sometimes soften to the soothingvoice of Emily, and there even were moments, when she regarded heraffectionate attentions with goodwill.
The scenes of terrible contention, to which Emily was frequentlycompelled to be witness, exhausted her spirits more than anycircumstances, that had occurred since her departure from Tholouse. Thegentleness and goodness of her parents, together with the scenes of herearly happiness, often stole on her mind, like the visions of a higherworld; while the characters and circumstances, now passing beneath hereye, excited both terror and surprise. She could scarcely haveimagined, that passions so fierce and so various, as those which Montoniexhibited, could have been concentrated in one individual; yet whatmore surprised her, was, that, on great occasions, he could bend thesepassions, wild as they were, to the cause of his interest, and generallycould disguise in his countenance their operation on his mind; but shehad seen him too often, when he had thought it unnecessary to concealhis nature, to be deceived on such occasions.
Her present life appeared like the dream of a distempered imagination,or like one of those frightful fictions, in which the wild genius ofthe poets sometimes delighted. Reflection brought only regret, andanticipation terror. How often did she wish to 'steal the lark's wing,and mount the swiftest gale,' that Languedoc and repose might once morebe hers!
Of Count Morano's health she made frequent enquiry; but Annette heardonly vague reports of his danger, and that his surgeon had said he wouldnever leave the cottage alive; while Emily could not but be shocked tothink, that she, however innocently, might be the means of his death;and Annette, who did not fail to observe her emotion, interpreted it inher own way.
But a circumstance soon occurred, which entirely withdrew Annette'sattention from this subject, and awakened the surprise and curiosity sonatural to her. Coming one day to Emily's apartment, with a countenancefull of importance, 'What can all this mean, ma'amselle?' said she.'Would I was once safe in Languedoc again, they should never catch megoing on my travels any more! I must think it a fine thing, truly, tocome abroad, and see foreign parts! I little thought I was coming to becatched up in a old castle, among such dreary mountains, with the chanceof being murdered, or, what is as good, having my throat cut!'
'What can all this mean, indeed, Annette?' said Emily, in astonishment.
'Aye, ma'amselle, you may look surprised; but you won't believe it,perhaps, till they have murdered you, too. You would not believe aboutthe ghost I told you of, though I shewed you the very place, where itused to appear!--You will believe nothing, ma'amselle.'
'Not till you speak more reasonably, Annette; for Heaven's sake, explainyour meaning. You spoke of murder!'
'Aye, ma'amselle, they are coming to murder us all, perhaps; but whatsignifies explaining?--you will not believe.'
Emily again desired her to relate what she had seen, or heard.
'O, I have seen enough, ma'am, and heard too much, as Ludovico canprove. Poor soul! they will murder him, too! I little thought, whenhe sung those sweet verses under my lattice, at Venice!'--Emily lookedimpatient and displeased. 'Well, ma'amselle, as I was saying, thesepreparations about the castle, and these strange-looking people, thatare calling here every day, and the Signor's cruel usage of my lady, andhis odd goings-on--all these, as I told Ludovico, can bode no good. Andhe bid me hold my tongue. So, says I, the Signor's strangely altered,Ludovico, in this gloomy castle, to what he was in France; there, all sogay! Nobody so gallant to my lady, then; and he could smile, too, upona poor servant, sometimes, and jeer her, too, good-naturedly enough.I remember once, when he said to me, as I was going out of my lady'sdressing-room--Annette, says he--'
'Never mind what the Signor said,' interrupted Emily; 'but tell me, atonce, the circumstance, which has thus alarmed you.'
'Aye, ma'amselle,' rejoined Annette, 'that is just what Ludovico said:says he, Never mind what the Signor says to you. So I told him what Ithought about the Signor. He is so strangely altered, said I: for now heis so haughty, and so commanding, and so sharp with my lady; and, if hemeets one, he'll scarcely look at one, unless it be to frown. So muchthe better, says Ludovico, so much the better. And to tell you thetruth, ma'amselle, I thought this was a very ill-natured speech ofLudovico: but I went on. And then, says I, he is always knitting hisbrows; and if one speaks to him, he does not hear; and then he sits upcounselling so, of a night, with the other Signors--there they are, tilllong past midnight, discoursing together! Aye, but says Ludovico,you don't know what they are counselling about. No, said I, but Ican guess--it is about my young lady. Upon that, Ludovico burst outa-laughing, quite loud; so he put me in a huff, for I did not like thateither I or you, ma'amselle, should be laughed at; and I turned awayquick, but he stopped me. "Don't be affronted, Annette," said he, "but Icannot help laughing;" and with that he laughed again. "What!" says he,"do you think the Signors sit up, night after night, only to counselabout thy young lady! No, no, there is something more in the wind thanthat. And these repairs about the castle, and these preparations aboutthe ramparts--they are not making about young ladies." Why, surely, saidI, the Signor, my master, is not going to make war? "Make war!" saidLudovico, "what, upon the mountains and the woods? for here is no livingsoul to make war upon that I see."
'What are these preparations for, then? said I; why surely nobodyis coming to take away my master's castle! "Then there are so manyill-looking fellows coming to the castle every day," says Ludovico,without answering my question, "and the Signor sees them all, and talkswith them all, and they all stay in the neighbourhood! By holy St.Marco! some of them are the most cut-throat-looking dogs I ever set myeyes upon."
'I asked Ludovico again, if he thought they were coming to take away mymaster's castle; and he said, No, he did not think they were, but he didnot know for certain. "Then yesterday," said he, but you must not tellthis, ma'amselle, "yesterday, a party of these men came, and left al
ltheir horses in the castle stables, where, it seems, they are tostay, for the Signor ordered them all to be entertained with thebest provender in the manger; but the men are, most of them, in theneighbouring cottages."
'So, ma'amselle, I came to tell you all this, for I never heard anything so strange in my life. But what can these ill-looking men be comeabout, if it is not to murder us? And the Signor knows this, or whyshould he be so civil to them? And why should he fortify the castle, andcounsel so much with the other Signors, and be so thoughtful?'
'Is this all you have to tell, Annette?' said Emily. 'Have you heardnothing else, that alarms you?'
'Nothing else, ma'amselle!' said Annette; 'why, is not this enough?''Quite enough for my patience, Annette, but not quite enough to convinceme we are all to be murdered, though I acknowledge here is sufficientfood for curiosity.' She forbore to speak her apprehensions, becauseshe would not encourage Annette's wild terrors; but the presentcircumstances of the castle both surprised, and alarmed her. Annette,having told her tale, left the chamber, on the wing for new wonders.
In the evening, Emily had passed some melancholy hours with MadameMontoni, and was retiring to rest, when she was alarmed by a strange andloud knocking at her chamber door, and then a heavy weight fell againstit, that almost burst it open. She called to know who was there, andreceiving no answer, repeated the call; but a chilling silence followed.It occurred to her--for, at this moment, she could not reason on theprobability of circumstances--that some one of the strangers, latelyarrived at the castle, had discovered her apartment, and was come withsuch intent, as their looks rendered too possible--to rob, perhaps tomurder, her. The moment she admitted this possibility, terror suppliedthe place of conviction, and a kind of instinctive remembrance of herremote situation from the family heightened it to a degree, that almostovercame her senses. She looked at the door, which led to the staircase,expecting to see it open, and listening, in fearful silence, for areturn of the noise, till she began to think it had proceeded from thisdoor, and a wish of escaping through the opposite one rushed upon hermind. She went to the gallery door, and then, fearing to open it, lestsome person might be silently lurking for her without, she stopped,but with her eyes fixed in expectation upon the opposite door of thestair-case. As thus she stood, she heard a faint breathing near her, andbecame convinced, that some person was on the other side of the door,which was already locked. She sought for other fastening, but there wasnone.
While she yet listened, the breathing was distinctly heard, and herterror was not soothed, when, looking round her wide and lonely chamber,she again considered her remote situation. As she stood hesitatingwhether to call for assistance, the continuance of the stillnesssurprised her; and her spirits would have revived, had she not continuedto hear the faint breathing, that convinced her, the person, whoever itwas, had not quitted the door.
At length, worn out with anxiety, she determined to call loudly forassistance from her casement, and was advancing to it, when, whether theterror of her mind gave her ideal sounds, or that real ones did come,she thought footsteps were ascending the private stair-case; and,expecting to see its door unclose, she forgot all other cause of alarm,and retreated towards the corridor. Here she endeavoured to make herescape, but, on opening the door, was very near falling over a person,who lay on the floor without. She screamed, and would have passed, buther trembling frame refused to support her; and the moment, in which sheleaned against the wall of the gallery, allowed her leisure to observethe figure before her, and to recognise the features of Annette. Fearinstantly yielded to surprise. She spoke in vain to the poor girl, whoremained senseless on the floor, and then, losing all consciousness ofher own weakness, hurried to her assistance.
When Annette recovered, she was helped by Emily into the chamber, butwas still unable to speak, and looked round her, as if her eyes followedsome person in the room. Emily tried to sooth her disturbed spirits, andforbore, at present, to ask her any questions; but the faculty of speechwas never long with-held from Annette, and she explained, in brokensentences, and in her tedious way, the occasion of her disorder. Sheaffirmed, and with a solemnity of conviction, that almost staggeredthe incredulity of Emily, that she had seen an apparition, as she waspassing to her bedroom, through the corridor.
'I had heard strange stories of that chamber before,' said Annette:'but as it was so near yours, ma'amselle, I would not tell them to you,because they would frighten you. The servants had told me, often andoften, that it was haunted, and that was the reason why it was shut up:nay, for that matter, why the whole string of these rooms, here, areshut up. I quaked whenever I went by, and I must say, I did sometimesthink I heard odd noises within it. But, as I said, as I was passingalong the corridor, and not thinking a word about the matter, or evenof the strange voice that the Signors heard the other night, all of asudden comes a great light, and, looking behind me, there was a tallfigure, (I saw it as plainly, ma'amselle, as I see you at this moment),a tall figure gliding along (Oh! I cannot describe how!) into the room,that is always shut up, and nobody has the key of it but the Signor, andthe door shut directly.'
'Then it doubtless was the Signor,' said Emily.
'O no, ma'amselle, it could not be him, for I left him busya-quarrelling in my lady's dressing-room!'
'You bring me strange tales, Annette,' said Emily: 'it was but thismorning, that you would have terrified me with the apprehension ofmurder; and now you would persuade me, you have seen a ghost! Thesewonderful stories come too quickly.'
'Nay, ma'amselle, I will say no more, only, if I had not beenfrightened, I should not have fainted dead away, so. I ran as fast as Icould, to get to your door; but, what was worst of all, I could not callout; then I thought something must be strangely the matter with me, anddirectly I dropt down.'
'Was it the chamber where the black veil hangs?' said Emily. 'O! no,ma'amselle, it was one nearer to this. What shall I do, to get to myroom? I would not go out into the corridor again, for the whole world!'Emily, whose spirits had been severely shocked, and who, therefore,did not like the thought of passing the night alone, told her she mightsleep where she was. 'O, no, ma'amselle,' replied Annette, 'I would notsleep in the room, now, for a thousand sequins!'
Wearied and disappointed, Emily first ridiculed, though she shared, herfears, and then tried to sooth them; but neither attempt succeeded, andthe girl persisted in believing and affirming, that what she had seenwas nothing human. It was not till some time after Emily had recoveredher composure, that she recollected the steps she had heard on thestair-case--a remembrance, however, which made her insist that Annetteshould pass the night with her, and, with much difficulty, she, atlength, prevailed, assisted by that part of the girl's fear, whichconcerned the corridor.
Early on the following morning, as Emily crossed the hall to theramparts, she heard a noisy bustle in the court-yard, and the clatter ofhorses' hoofs. Such unusual sounds excited her curiosity; and, insteadof going to the ramparts, she went to an upper casement, from whenceshe saw, in the court below, a large party of horsemen, dressed in asingular, but uniform, habit, and completely, though variously, armed.They wore a kind of short jacket, composed of black and scarlet, andseveral of them had a cloak, of plain black, which, covering the personentirely, hung down to the stirrups. As one of these cloaks glancedaside, she saw, beneath, daggers, apparently of different sizes, tuckedinto the horseman's belt. She further observed, that these were carried,in the same manner, by many of the horsemen without cloaks, most of whombore also pikes, or javelins. On their heads, were the small Italiancaps, some of which were distinguished by black feathers. Whether thesecaps gave a fierce air to the countenance, or that the countenancesthey surmounted had naturally such an appearance, Emily thought she hadnever, till then, seen an assemblage of faces so savage and terrific.While she gazed, she almost fancied herself surrounded by banditti; anda vague thought glanced athwart her fancy--that Montoni was the captainof the group before her, and that this castle was to be the place ofrendezvou
s. The strange and horrible supposition was but momentary,though her reason could supply none more probable, and though shediscovered, among the band, the strangers she had formerly noticed withso much alarm, who were now distinguished by the black plume.
While she continued gazing, Cavigni, Verezzi, and Bertolini came forthfrom the hall, habited like the rest, except that they wore hats, witha mixed plume of black and scarlet, and that their arms differed fromthose of the rest of the party. As they mounted their horses, Emily wasstruck with the exulting joy, expressed on the visage of Verezzi, whileCavigni was gay, yet with a shade of thought on his countenance; and, ashe managed his horse with dexterity, his graceful and commanding figure,which exhibited the majesty of a hero, had never appeared to moreadvantage. Emily, as she observed him, thought he somewhat resembledValancourt, in the spirit and dignity of his person; but she looked invain for the noble, benevolent countenance--the soul's intelligence,which overspread the features of the latter.
As she was hoping, she scarcely knew why, that Montoni would accompanythe party, he appeared at the hall door, but un-accoutred. Havingcarefully observed the horsemen, conversed awhile with the cavaliers,and bidden them farewel, the band wheeled round the court, and, led byVerezzi, issued forth under the portcullis; Montoni following to theportal, and gazing after them for some time. Emily then retired fromthe casement, and, now certain of being unmolested, went to walk on theramparts, from whence she soon after saw the party winding among themountains to the west, appearing and disappearing between the woods,till distance confused their figures, consolidated their numbers, andonly a dingy mass appeared moving along the heights.
Emily observed, that no workmen were on the ramparts, and that therepairs of the fortifications seemed to be completed. While shesauntered thoughtfully on, she heard distant footsteps, and, raising hereyes, saw several men lurking under the castle walls, who were evidentlynot workmen, but looked as if they would have accorded well with theparty, which was gone. Wondering where Annette had hid herself solong, who might have explained some of the late circumstances, and thenconsidering that Madame Montoni was probably risen, she went to herdressing-room, where she mentioned what had occurred; but Madame Montonieither would not, or could not, give any explanation of the event. TheSignor's reserve to his wife, on this subject, was probably nothingmore than usual; yet, to Emily, it gave an air of mystery to the wholeaffair, that seemed to hint, there was danger, if not villany, in hisschemes.
Annette presently came, and, as usual, was full of alarm; to her lady'seager enquiries of what she had heard among the servants, she replied:
'Ah, madam! nobody knows what it is all about, but old Carlo; he knowswell enough, I dare say, but he is as close as his master. Some say theSignor is going out to frighten the enemy, as they call it: but where isthe enemy? Then others say, he is going to take away some body's castle:but I am sure he has room enough in his own, without taking otherpeople's; and I am sure I should like it a great deal better, if therewere more people to fill it.'
'Ah! you will soon have your wish, I fear,' replied Madame Montoni.
'No, madam, but such ill-looking fellows are not worth having. I meansuch gallant, smart, merry fellows as Ludovico, who is always tellingdroll stories, to make one laugh. It was but yesterday, he told me sucha HUMOURSOME tale! I can't help laughing at it now.--Says he--'
'Well, we can dispense with the story,' said her lady. 'Ah!' continuedAnnette, 'he sees a great way further than other people! Now he seesinto all the Signor's meaning, without knowing a word about the matter!'
'How is that?' said Madame Montoni.
'Why he says--but he made me promise not to tell, and I would notdisoblige him for the world.'
'What is it he made you promise not to tell?' said her lady, sternly. 'Iinsist upon knowing immediately--what is it he made you promise?'
'O madam,' cried Annette, 'I would not tell for the universe!' 'I insistupon your telling this instant,' said Madame Montoni. 'O dear madam!I would not tell for a hundred sequins! You would not have me forswearmyself madam!' exclaimed Annette.
'I will not wait another moment,' said Madame Montoni. Annette wassilent.
'The Signor shall be informed of this directly,' rejoined her mistress:'he will make you discover all.'
'It is Ludovico, who has discovered,' said Annette: 'but for mercy'ssake, madam, don't tell the Signor, and you shall know all directly.'Madame Montoni said, that she would not.
'Well then, madam, Ludovico says, that the Signor, my master,is--is--that is, he only thinks so, and any body, you know, madam, isfree to think--that the Signor, my master, is--is--'
'Is what?' said her lady, impatiently.
'That the Signor, my master, is going to be--a great robber--that is--heis going to rob on his own account;--to be, (but I am sure I don'tunderstand what he means) to be a--captain of--robbers.'
'Art thou in thy senses, Annette?' said Madame Montoni; 'or is this atrick to deceive me? Tell me, this instant, what Ludovico DID say tothee;--no equivocation;--this instant.'
'Nay, madam,' cried Annette, 'if this is all I am to get for havingtold the secret'--Her mistress thus continued to insist, and Annette toprotest, till Montoni, himself, appeared, who bade the latter leave theroom, and she withdrew, trembling for the fate of her story. Emily alsowas retiring, but her aunt desired she would stay; and Montoni had sooften made her a witness of their contention, that he no longer hadscruples on that account.
'I insist upon knowing this instant, Signor, what all this means:' saidhis wife--'what are all these armed men, whom they tell me of, goneout about?' Montoni answered her only with a look of scorn; and Emilywhispered something to her. 'It does not signify,' said her aunt: 'Iwill know; and I will know, too, what the castle has been fortifiedfor.'
'Come, come,' said Montoni, 'other business brought me here. I mustbe trifled with no longer. I have immediate occasion for what Idemand--those estates must be given up, without further contention; or Imay find a way--'
'They never shall be given up,' interrupted Madame Montoni: 'they nevershall enable you to carry on your wild schemes;--but what are these?I will know. Do you expect the castle to be attacked? Do you expectenemies? Am I to be shut up here, to be killed in a siege?'
'Sign the writings,' said Montoni, 'and you shall know more.'
'What enemy can be coming?' continued his wife. 'Have you entered intothe service of the state? Am I to be blocked up here to die?'
'That may possibly happen,' said Montoni, 'unless you yield to mydemand: for, come what may, you shall not quit the castle till then.'Madame Montoni burst into loud lamentation, which she as suddenlychecked, considering, that her husband's assertions might be onlyartifices, employed to extort her consent. She hinted this suspicion,and, in the next moment, told him also, that his designs were not sohonourable as to serve the state, and that she believed he had onlycommenced a captain of banditti, to join the enemies of Venice, inplundering and laying waste the surrounding country.
Montoni looked at her for a moment with a steady and stern countenance;while Emily trembled, and his wife, for once, thought she had said toomuch. 'You shall be removed, this night,' said he, 'to the east turret:there, perhaps, you may understand the danger of offending a man, whohas an unlimited power over you.'
Emily now fell at his feet, and, with tears of terror, supplicated forher aunt, who sat, trembling with fear, and indignation; now ready topour forth execrations, and now to join the intercessions of Emily.Montoni, however, soon interrupted these entreaties with an horribleoath; and, as he burst from Emily, leaving his cloak, in her hand, shefell to the floor, with a force, that occasioned her a severe blow onthe forehead. But he quitted the room, without attempting to raise her,whose attention was called from herself, by a deep groan from MadameMontoni, who continued otherwise unmoved in her chair, and had notfainted. Emily, hastening to her assistance, saw her eyes rolling, andher features convulsed.
Having spoken to her, without receiving an answer,
she broughtwater, and supported her head, while she held it to her lips; but theincreasing convulsions soon compelled Emily to call for assistance. Onher way through the hall, in search of Annette, she met Montoni, whomshe told what had happened, and conjured to return and comfort her aunt;but he turned silently away, with a look of indifference, and went outupon the ramparts. At length she found old Carlo and Annette, and theyhastened to the dressing-room, where Madame Montoni had fallen on thefloor, and was lying in strong convulsions. Having lifted her into theadjoining room, and laid her on the bed, the force of her disorder stillmade all their strength necessary to hold her, while Annette trembledand sobbed, and old Carlo looked silently and piteously on, as hisfeeble hands grasped those of his mistress, till, turning his eyes uponEmily, he exclaimed, 'Good God! Signora, what is the matter?'
Emily looked calmly at him, and saw his enquiring eyes fixed on her: andAnnette, looking up, screamed loudly; for Emily's face was stainedwith blood, which continued to fall slowly from her forehead: but herattention had been so entirely occupied by the scene before her, thatshe had felt no pain from the wound. She now held an handkerchief toher face, and, notwithstanding her faintness, continued to watch MadameMontoni, the violence of whose convulsions was abating, till at lengththey ceased, and left her in a kind of stupor.
'My aunt must remain quiet,' said Emily. 'Go, good Carlo; if we shouldwant your assistance, I will send for you. In the mean time, if you havean opportunity, speak kindly of your mistress to your master.'
'Alas!' said Carlo, 'I have seen too much! I have little influence withthe Signor. But do, dear young lady, take some care of yourself; that isan ugly wound, and you look sadly.'
'Thank you, my friend, for your consideration,' said Emily, smilingkindly: 'the wound is trifling, it came by a fall.'
Carlo shook his head, and left the room; and Emily, with Annette,continued to watch by her aunt. 'Did my lady tell the Signor whatLudovico said, ma'amselle?' asked Annette in a whisper; but Emilyquieted her fears on the subject.
'I thought what this quarrelling would come to,' continued Annette: 'Isuppose the Signor has been beating my lady.'
'No, no, Annette, you are totally mistaken, nothing extra-ordinary hashappened.'
'Why, extraordinary things happen here so often, ma'amselle, that thereis nothing in them. Here is another legion of those ill-looking fellows,come to the castle, this morning.'
'Hush! Annette, you will disturb my aunt; we will talk of that by andbye.'
They continued watching silently, till Madame Montoni uttered a lowsigh, when Emily took her hand, and spoke soothingly to her; but theformer gazed with unconscious eyes, and it was long before she knew herniece. Her first words then enquired for Montoni; to which Emily repliedby an entreaty, that she would compose her spirits, and consent to bekept quiet, adding, that, if she wished any message to be conveyed tohim, she would herself deliver it. 'No,' said her aunt faintly, 'no--Ihave nothing new to tell him. Does he persist in saying I shall beremoved from my chamber?'
Emily replied, that he had not spoken, on the subject, since MadameMontoni heard him; and then she tried to divert her attention to someother topic; but her aunt seemed to be inattentive to what she said, andlost in secret thoughts. Emily, having brought her some refreshment, nowleft her to the care of Annette, and went in search of Montoni, whom shefound on a remote part of the rampart, conversing among a group ofthe men described by Annette. They stood round him with fierce, yetsubjugated, looks, while he, speaking earnestly, and pointing to thewalls, did not perceive Emily, who remained at some distance, waitingtill he should be at leisure, and observing involuntarily the appearanceof one man, more savage than his fellows, who stood resting on his pike,and looking, over the shoulders of a comrade, at Montoni, to whom helistened with uncommon earnestness. This man was apparently of lowcondition; yet his looks appeared not to acknowledge the superiority ofMontoni, as did those of his companions; and sometimes they even assumedan air of authority, which the decisive manner of the Signor could notrepress. Some few words of Montoni then passed in the wind; and, as themen were separating, she heard him say, 'This evening, then, begin thewatch at sun-set.'
'At sun-set, Signor,' replied one or two of them, and walked away; whileEmily approached Montoni, who appeared desirous of avoiding her: but,though she observed this, she had courage to proceed. She endeavoured tointercede once more for her aunt, represented to him her sufferings,and urged the danger of exposing her to a cold apartment in her presentstate. 'She suffers by her own folly,' said Montoni, 'and is not to bepitied;--she knows how she may avoid these sufferings in future--if sheis removed to the turret, it will be her own fault. Let her be obedient,and sign the writings you heard of, and I will think no more of it.'
When Emily ventured still to plead, he sternly silenced and rebuked herfor interfering in his domestic affairs, but, at length, dismissed herwith this concession--That he would not remove Madame Montoni, on theensuing night, but allow her till the next to consider, whether shewould resign her settlements, or be imprisoned in the east turret ofthe castle, 'where she shall find,' he added, 'a punishment she may notexpect.'
Emily then hastened to inform her aunt of this short respite and of thealternative, that awaited her, to which the latter made no reply,but appeared thoughtful, while Emily, in consideration of her extremelanguor, wished to sooth her mind by leading it to less interestingtopics: and, though these efforts were unsuccessful, and Madame Montonibecame peevish, her resolution, on the contended point, seemed somewhatto relax, and Emily recommended, as her only means of safety, that sheshould submit to Montoni's demand. 'You know not what you advise,' saidher aunt. 'Do you understand, that these estates will descend to you atmy death, if I persist in a refusal?'
'I was ignorant of that circumstance, madam,' replied Emily, 'but theknowledge of it cannot with-hold me from advising you to adopt theconduct, which not only your peace, but, I fear, your safety requires,and I entreat, that you will not suffer a consideration comparatively sotrifling, to make you hesitate a moment in resigning them.'
'Are you sincere, niece?' 'Is it possible you can doubt it, madam?' Heraunt appeared to be affected. 'You are not unworthy of these estates,niece,' said she: 'I would wish to keep them for your sake--you shew avirtue I did not expect.'
'How have I deserved this reproof, madam?' said Emily sorrowfully.
'Reproof!' replied Madame Montoni: 'I meant to praise your virtue.'
'Alas! here is no exertion of virtue,' rejoined Emily, 'for here is notemptation to be overcome.'
'Yet Monsieur Valancourt'--said her aunt. 'O, madam!' interrupted Emily,anticipating what she would have said, 'do not let me glance on thatsubject: do not let my mind be stained with a wish so shockinglyself-interested.' She immediately changed the topic, and continued withMadame Montoni, till she withdrew to her apartment for the night.
At that hour, the castle was perfectly still, and every inhabitant ofit, except herself, seemed to have retired to rest. As she passed alongthe wide and lonely galleries, dusky and silent, she felt forlornand apprehensive of--she scarcely knew what; but when, entering thecorridor, she recollected the incident of the preceding night, a dreadseized her, lest a subject of alarm, similar to that, which had befallenAnnette, should occur to her, and which, whether real, or ideal, would,she felt, have an almost equal effect upon her weakened spirits. Thechamber, to which Annette had alluded, she did not exactly know, butunderstood it to be one of those she must pass in the way to her own;and, sending a fearful look forward into the gloom, she stepped lightlyand cautiously along, till, coming to a door, from whence issued a lowsound, she hesitated and paused; and, during the delay of that moment,her fears so much increased, that she had no power to move from thespot. Believing, that she heard a human voice within, she was somewhatrevived; but, in the next moment, the door was opened, and a person,whom she conceived to be Montoni, appeared, who instantly started back,and closed it, though not before she had seen, by the light that burnedin the c
hamber, another person, sitting in a melancholy attitude by thefire. Her terror vanished, but her astonishment only began, which wasnow roused by the mysterious secrecy of Montoni's manner, and bythe discovery of a person, whom he thus visited at midnight, in anapartment, which had long been shut up, and of which such extraordinaryreports were circulated.
While she thus continued hesitating, strongly prompted to watchMontoni's motions, yet fearing to irritate him by appearing to noticethem, the door was again opened cautiously, and as instantly closed asbefore. She then stepped softly to her chamber, which was the nextbut one to this, but, having put down her lamp, returned to an obscurecorner of the corridor, to observe the proceedings of this half-seenperson, and to ascertain, whether it was indeed Montoni.
Having waited in silent expectation for a few minutes, with her eyesfixed on the door, it was again opened, and the same person appeared,whom she now knew to be Montoni. He looked cautiously round, withoutperceiving her, then, stepping forward, closed the door, and left thecorridor. Soon after, Emily heard the door fastened on the inside, andshe withdrew to her chamber, wondering at what she had witnessed.
It was now twelve o'clock. As she closed her casement, she heardfootsteps on the terrace below, and saw imperfectly, through the gloom,several persons advancing, who passed under the casement. She thenheard the clink of arms, and, in the next moment, the watch-word; when,recollecting the command she had overheard from Montoni, and the hourof the night, she understood, that these men were, for the first time,relieving guard in the castle. Having listened till all was again still,she retired to sleep.